


Hidden Profanities

by Feralious



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dominant Masochism, F/M, Fluff, Foreign Language, Language Kink, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, Multilingual, Pillow Talk, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1847668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feralious/pseuds/Feralious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was shocked to hear him utter something in another language.</p><p>Even more shocked that he <i>swore</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hidden Profanities

**Author's Note:**

> I spent the whole day being sad over how Alana and Hannibal ended up in canon and maybe even more over how they're going to end up in this AU I've got going on. Which led to Hannibal talking dirty to Alana in the RP I've been playing in. Which led to fluffy fic with a language kink I didn't know I had.
> 
> Uh. Even turned a little kinky at the end. I really only like Hannibal as dominant, but then I also get incredibly masochistic vibes from him. So yeah. Apparently "topping from the bottom" means something different in the BDSM community but it perfectly describes what happens here, so I'm keeping it as a tag.
> 
> Basically this drabble consists of two deleted scenes from my AU. I couldn't not write them.
> 
> (Translations can be found below.)

After knowing him for so many years, there was only a few things he could do that would surprise her.

Tonight, he did two of those things.

At the same time.

As they were both trying to catch their breath, their heart rates slowly coming down, she couldn’t wipe the smirk off her face. It was always thrilling to watch him lose control, because she knew how hard he always fought to hold on to it, even as his own body was begging to give in.

This time, even his mind had caved.

She’d always known that he was multilingual; knew his heritage, the time he’d spent in Europe. But she had never, _ever_ heard him utter a word in a language other than English, not counting the names of the sometimes bizarre dishes that left his kitchen on regular occasion.

And coincidentally, she’d understood what he’d said, too.

For the first time in her life, she’d heard Hannibal Lecter _swear_.

The arm he’d draped over her pulled her a little closer to him, and she willingly obliged; enjoyed the warmth of his skin. His voice was still ragged and slightly breathless when he said, “Excusez-moi. J’ai été grossier.”

Oh, he’d definitely been rude, she thought; especially by his standards. Though she supposed she could forgive him – after all, it had been very understandable. In fact, it was pretty much her fault. She knew what saying his name during sex did to him. She didn’t know _why_ , maybe it was some narcissistic tendency, but whenever she murmured, moaned, _breathed_ his name it seemed to unleash something inside of him, drove him _wild_.

And of course she liked to abuse that knowledge.

She found the strength somewhere to pull herself on top of him; looked down into his eyes. “Très grossier,” she agreed, trying to sound reprimanding, but the grin on her face betrayed her. “Je suis choquée, Hannibal.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, lips slightly parted in surprise.

“Savais-tu pas que je parle français?” she said; couldn’t help but chuckle. He _must_ ’ve known; she’d told him once that her parents hailed from French Canada.

“Je me rappelle,” he murmured.

She leaned closer to him. “Que devons-nous faire à ce sujet?” she whispered, tangling her hands in his hair, her lips only _just_ refraining from touching his as she spoke.

“Punissez-moi,” he breathed, his breath hitching in his throat when she twisted her fingers in his hair.

“Comme tu veux,” she answered, finally kissing him, earning an approving groan when she bit down on his bottom lip.

If saying his name had the same effect on him that these sounds escaping his mouth had on her, she could _really_ believe that it was a turn on for him.

“Nenutraukite,” he growled as her lips left his, and she just smirked in response before retrieving his tie from the floor next to his bed. There was a glint in his eyes just before she obscured his vision; started teasingly kissing down his neck.

She had no idea what it meant or even what _language_ it was, though she could guess. On both counts.

And no, she wasn‘t planning on stopping anytime soon.

**Author's Note:**

> Excusez-moi. J’ai été grossier. - I apologize. I've been rude.  
> Très grossier. - Very rude.  
> Je suis choquée - I'm shocked.  
> Savais-tu pas que je parle français? - Didn't you know I speak French?  
> Je me rappelle. - I remember/I recall.  
> Que devons-nous faire à ce sujet? - What should we do about it?  
> Punissez-moi. - Punish me.  
> Comme tu veux. - As you wish.  
> Nenutraukite. - Don't stop.


End file.
